


it's always shining somewhere, i've just gotta get there

by thecourageofstars



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M, all the aus, more to come - Freeform, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecourageofstars/pseuds/thecourageofstars
Summary: In which all eventually ends happily, whether in a music studio, a coffee shop or in some other universe far, far away from here.





	it's always shining somewhere, i've just gotta get there

**Author's Note:**

> Wouldn't it be something, Teresa thought, to sing to a sold-out audience, the scream of the thrumming crowd, the electric hum of a guitar and the sound of her own rushing blood drowning out even the thoughts in her head.

The album had been the culmination of years.

Years of scribbled lyrics in the margins of notebooks, blistered fingers learning how to play on a pawn shop guitar, listening to Selena, Paramore, Gloria Estefan, and everyone in between; years of youtube covers with only two comments, of Brenda helping to badger old night club owners to give her a chance, until one day the views, the likes had finally started to roll in and one day she got an email from Vargas Entertainment. An email that Teresa responded to after spending an intense three hours with Brenda and Güero, agonizing over every word, that led to a meeting, that led to her signing her full name on a dotted line and Teresa finally thought: I did it.

The album had been the culmination of years.

And Camila Vargas, music mogul and producer, tore it to shreds.

“You know the phrase, ‘kill your darlings’ I presume?”

“I do,” Teresa said, just stopping herself from gritting her teeth. Inside she seethed, hating everything about the other woman, from the regal curve of her cheekbones to her tailored crimson dress to her patent heels.

“Good. You’ll become very familiar it.”

Camila leaned back slightly, crossing her arms and surveying the younger woman cooly. What must it feel like,Teresa thought, to hold another person’s dreams in your palm and just... not care.

“Your voice alright, you seem to have talent and your image has,” she paused and Teresa met her eyes in an unflinching, if dead, stare, “Potential. Hmm. I want you to work with James Valdez. He’s an in-house lyricist and musician- one of the best.” 

 

.

 

“I’m going to guess she told you to kill your darlings?”

James Valdez turned out to be the sort of person who wore dark leather jackets and never seemed to be without a pair of ray bans or a his guitar. He wasn’t pretty like Güero was, but Brenda had still jabbed Teresa in the ribs- “quién es _ese?_ ”- when he first walked into the studio.

“Yes,” Teresa said flatly, wanting to storm out, but James shook his head.

“I can’t stand that phrase either. It’s something people who have never written creatively before think they understand, but they don’t. I prefer to save my darling, self-indulgent pieces and read them over when I can’t remember why I do this job in the first place.”

He dug his hands in his pockets.

“Kill your darlings is much more punchy as far as phrases though, don’t you think?”

Teresa tilted her head.

“Why do you do this job?”

He ho took a seat on a stool across from where she sat on the coach. It was just the two of them now, James had asked Güero and Brenda to leave with a surprising politeness. Brenda had been charmed throwing Teresa a suggestive look, Guaro less so, glaring and petulant.

“Why did you want a record deal?”

James Valdez had brown eyes. Patient, unyielding brown eyes that did not divert or hide their gaze and stared unflinchingly into Teresa’s own. _Why did she want a record deal?_ The obvious: resources to do the thing she loved most, influence, fame, recognition. Then the things just under the surface, the truth: getting to do the one thing she had ever felt good at, tangible proof that she was more than a girl from Sinaloa who just scraped by as a money changer. Someone more. Someone who could use music to make other people feel like _they_ were more. But these were not things Teresa could tell a man she had never met before today.

Quietly, sensing the hostility and frustration that must have been rolling off her like smoke, he said, “I’m not here to turn your music into something you don’t recognize.”

Then, almost tender; “I know it’s hard. Let me help you.”

To her horror, the fury and misery that meeting with Camila had inspired had finally reached its climax and Teresa felt her eyes glaze with tears. She fell back against the couch, exhausted. For a moment, they sat in a silence that was oddly comfortable.

“So. Where do I start?”

James gave a slight smile, eyes crinkling.

“By saying: 'where do we start'.”

This earned James an eye roll brimming with ire which got him to chuckle, a warm, pleasant sound, that was absent of condescension. But he knew better than to push his luck.

“Show me what you got Mendoza.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Wake Up, by Eden  
>   
> Translation: quién es ese?- who is that?  
>   
>   
>   
> Feel free to send me AU prompts people!


End file.
